“So, did you talk to Frank,” I asked him.
“I went over to see him,” he replied, “But he was not there. His wife told me he was at the doctor’s. I stayed over for coffee.”
The street was loud. They were smoking outside the shop on their break.
“Oh yeah?” I said absent-mindedly.
“Yeah. She had one of those European cans. Instant. But the good kind. I take it black, no sugar, no cream.”
“I know what black means.”
“It was exquisite,” he said. No smile, all serious, but his eyes were happy.